by Jenna Kernan
“Is this what you truly want?” he asked.
He watched her mouth, pink and full as she spoke. “I’ve dreamed of you all my life. I just never expected to find you here.”
He didn’t understand her words, but her acceptance was clear. He stared down at the tiny mole beneath her lip. That little dark spot had giving him many hours fascination. Now, at last, he dipped, running his tongue over the slightly elevated flesh. His tongue brushed the full swell of her bottom lip and then explored the hard surface of her straight teeth, parting now to admit him to her sweet mouth.
You’ll never keep her. His mind flashed a warning. He knew that she would only break his heart, but still he could not resist her.
A voice came from somewhere far away.
He deepened the kiss, feeling her arms tight about his neck, urging him closer.
The voice again, and this time he heard the words.
“Price? I come in now.”
He rolled away from Lena, leaving her exposed and breathless. She panted, her eyes wide with confusion, her legs still splayed. Her petticoats gathered at her knees, spilling into the gap where he lay just a moment before. Crouching, Troy faced Wind Dancer, who scowled at him.
Lena lay between them, her gaze going from one to the other. Coming to her senses, she scrambled to her seat, tucking her slender legs beneath the ocean of white linen.
Wind Dancer spoke to Lena. “Council decision is reached. You come.”
“What did they decide?” asked Troy.
Wind Dancer’s solemn face gave little hope as he stared at Lena. “You come.”
She pressed her arms protectively about her. “Yes. As soon as I am dressed.”
Wind Dancer nodded, sending the feathers in his hair a flutter. Then he stepped back and dropped the flap.
Their gazes met.
Lena reached out and grasped his hand with fingers suddenly icy cold. “I wish we had just a little more time.”
He helped her dress. Then, Troy stepped first from the opening and Lena followed. The instant his head cleared the entrance, two men seized his arms and dragged him aside. Unable to run, Lena stood alone before the assembled warriors.
Chapter 16
Troy twisted, preparing to kick out the legs of the braves that held him. He’d die before he’d see them harm Lena.
Wind Dancer spoke, “Be still or I open your head again.”
Troy ceased his struggles.
Lena stood regal as a princess before the gathering. Her eyes widened as she noted Troy’s capture, but she did not weep or beg, instead turning to Wind Dancer as if she were a condemned queen. He motioned her to follow. Troy stood rigid, preparing to escape if they harmed her. He knew he could not save her, but he could go down fighting.
Wind Dancer led Lena forward and then to a halt. He left her there, facing the village. Troy saw Red Eagle standing tall and triumphant. The cold fingers of dread crept up Troy’s spine. Had the man won?
Then Red Eagle spoke to the assemblage. No translation was offered by speech or sign. The words were not for him.
Beside the old man, Charging Buffalo looked grim. The two moved aside, leaving Lena looking bewildered and alone. Her gaze strayed to him.
Helpless, he stood before her. His eye caught movement and turned to spot the archer draw back his bowstring.
“No!” he shouted.
The man released his fingers from the cord and the arrow shot into the air. Troy jerked his head to see Lena have time only to gape before the point struck her in the center of her chest.
Troy wrenched himself free. The braves beside him did not resist his efforts but stood dumbstruck beside him. Troy took one step, then another, running the ten paces to her side.
Lena did not fall. The arrow quivered and stilled, sticking outward from her body like a tree limb. She turned to Charging Buffalo, whose eyes rounded in astonishment. Red Eagle sunk to his knees.
Panic shook the assemblage. Screams and shouts mingled as the people fled in all directions. The Medicine Man dragged himself to his feet and ran after the rest.
Only Charging Buffalo and a few of his braves stood their ground.
Lena turned to the chief. “What have I done?”
Why didn’t she fall?
She grasped the arrow and pulled, but it remained embedded in her body.
“Lena—how?” he asked.
Her color drained away until her face shone pale as the surface of the moon.
“My corset. It’s stuck in the bodkin.”
“What?”
“The picture book piece of London Bridge,” she whispered.
Understanding flooded his mind as possibilities sparked.
“Are you injured?” he asked.
She gave a shake of her head. “I don’t know.”
“Hold on.”
The village now cleared except for the five brave men before him, Charging Buffalo and Wind Dancer among them. Unease and astonishment blanketed their features.
Charging Buffalo signed one word, “How?”
He signed his answer, his hands moving in even strokes. Medicine Woman saves the most powerful medicine for herself. Bring our horses and mules. We go.
The chief spoke and Wind Dancer translated. “One of our women has sickened with the spotting disease. Red Eagle says Medicine Woman brings this white man’s curse with her. Charging Bear says the woman was not protected by Medicine Woman’s spirit painting.”
Lena leaned heavily on Troy and he grabbed her elbow to support her. They had to get out of here, right away.
“You shot at Medicine Woman. She will not work her medicine here again.”
Charging Buffalo spoke for a long time. Wind Dancer explained that he was sorry for the mistakes of his council. There had been so much bad from the whites: diseases, liquor and guns that could kill a man before he even saw his enemy. They agreed this was some evil trick. Now they saw Medicine Woman’s power and were honored that she had shared it with the River Otter People.
“Not anymore, she won’t,” said Troy.
“This we regret. You pick of my horses,” Wind Dancer translated for Charging Buffalo.
Troy wanted to leave immediately. “I accept your choice.”
The chief spoke to his braves, who departed a moment later. Troy glanced at Lena and noted her labored breathing. He had to get that arrow out before she could ride. He hesitated, wondering if the arrowhead acted like a cork. He clenched his teeth together, knowing that, either way, it must come out.
He grasped the arrow thrusting from Lena’s chest and pulled. A tremor ran through her as he expelled the point, but he noted no blood. She shivered as if freezing cold.
The chief stepped back as Troy hoisted the arrow. “We will keep this as a reminder of your hospitality.”
The warriors returned with the mules packed.
He squeezed Lena’s elbow. “You gotta stand up tall. I’m letting go.”
She bit her lower lip and nodded. Troy released her and waited a moment, then hurried to saddle her filly and check the mules. He scowled at his new mount, an Appaloosa stallion. Upon the creature’s speckled back was not the small, austere saddle of the Sioux, but Troy’s old saddle. They couldn’t ride double on her little Arabian and he did not yet trust this new horse. With no choice but to move forward, Troy mounted the Appaloosa who bore his weight calmly.
“Lena,” he said, extending his hand, and she reached up.
He hauled her up before him and she fell heavily against his chest.
“Lena, are you hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Hold on.”
With his right hand he held her and the single rein of the Sioux bridle. His left pulled the line of animals strung behind him. It seemed to take forever to clear the village. At last, all sign of the Sioux vanished behind him and he pulled to a stop.
Lena’s eyes blinked open as he eased her away from the safety of his chest.
“Hold the horn,” he said and swung d
own. In a moment he had her sitting on a buffalo robe, as he worked the impossibly small hooks and eyes disguised beneath a flap on the side of her dress. She did not protest when he drew the silken fabric down about her waist, and that worried him. He moved before her and studied the corset. A tear in the fabric was the only evidence of the assault. His breath returned. She reached to a gap between her full breasts and withdrew the bodkin from its sleeve, revealing the finely carved scene he had first admired the day they met. The reason for her embarrassment that day was now clear to him. Her fingers trembled and the ivory fell in two. She let out a strangled cry as the ivory slid through her trembling fingers.
He noted the etched bridge in the center split cleanly by the arrow. Small wonder she was as pale as milk. His gaze shifted from her trembling hands to the spot of crimson blossoming on the clean white linen of her corset. It was the size of a half dollar and spreading outward.
His stomach clenched as if mule-kicked.
“Great God almighty.” He reached for his knife only to find it missing. He never got it back from the Sioux.
He scrambled behind her, tearing at the cording. She cried out and he forced himself to take care as he unlaced the contraption.
Now he moved before her, dragging the shift down below the orbs of her breasts to find blood welling from a slice at the center of her chest. The corset hadn’t stopped the arrow, only slowed it.
Had the point split her breastplate as neatly as it had the whalebone?
He drew back the skin flanking the wound and saw the glistening sheath covering the muscle beneath, bloody, but intact.
His heart beat so loudly he could not hear his own words.
“Flesh wound.”
He pressed her breastbone, above and below the slit, and she winced. Bruised likely, but that was all.
“It ain’t broke.”
Her sigh of relief was audible.
“But the skin’s cut.”
“Is it bad?” she asked glancing down at the wound.
“It’ll mend.”
Her head sunk forward to look. “That’s a mercy.”
“Best bandage you up.”
“I have a medicinal salve.”
Troy retrieved the ointment and then tore one of her numerous petticoats for a clean pad of linen. She placed a dollop of the cream upon the cloth and then he pressed the fabric over the wound. She drew her chemise back in place. Troy tried to wind strips around her ribs to hold the bandage, but her full breasts prevented the binding from touching the pad.
“Them things are starting to irritate me,” he muttered.
Her coy smile removed the scowl from his face.
“My mother calls them one of a woman’s few advantages.”
“I can’t get the pad to stay put.”
“Use the corset,” she said.
He did and found that it held the dressing perfectly. “So it finally comes in handy,” he said.
She lifted the split bodkin. “Twice in one day.”
Their gaze met and held as he realized how nearly he had come to losing her.
“Lena, if anything had happened to you. I don’t know what I would have done.”
She smiled, seemingly pleased to be the cause of his torment and he realized that he would lose her soon enough.
How had he let himself become attached to her after warning himself against making such a mistake again? Lena was no different than Rachel. A month from now, if he passed her on the street, she would likely walk by without acknowledging him.
But he would never forget her.
“Troy?” she asked.
He snapped back from his musings and checked beneath the pad.
“No bleeding,” he said. “Lena, we gotta move downriver ’fore them Sioux change their mind about letting us go.”
Her eyes widened, seeming huge in her pale face.
“I’ll tie your horse to the others and you’ll ride with me.” He arranged the horses, unsure about his new mount, but equally unsure if her little horse could carry them both, not to mention what would happen if he slapped his saddle on the creature. He eased her up on the Appaloosa again and then mounted behind, cradling Lena against him as he led the group downriver.
“Rest now.” He stroked her head. “That’s my girl.”
“Am I?”
“What?”
“Your girl.”
He glanced down at the top of her head. “Do you want to be?”
“More than anything.” She held his arm, now snug across her waist. “I thought I would die today.”
“You were brave. Never showed them no fear. They respect that.”
“I’ve never been more frightened.”
“That’s what courage is, going on, even if your knees are cracking together. But don’t you worry, Lena. I’ll bring you home safe.”
She began to cry.
“Lena. What’s wrong, does your wound pain you?”
She shook her head. “This morning, I could have had you. Now I’ve lost you again.”
“I’m right here.”
She sniffed and he felt his throat tighten.
“Only for a few more days.”
He couldn’t stand to see her like this. There must be something he could do to ease their parting for both of them.
“Been known to rub on a person’s nerves. You’ll be lucky to be rid of me.” He knew he’d never grow tired of her. Never.
“I will not.”
His heart squeezed tight at what she said. Then the reality of their situation returned.
“You don’t know what it means to keep hold of something until it wears out. You’d grow weary of me over time.”
“Never.”
“That coming from a woman with more shoes than there are days of the week. You ain’t never done without. My whole life has been making do. Believe me. You don’t want a life with me.”
She extended her hand, placing it over his. “But I do.”
He scowled. “I should dress you in buckskin and beads and see how you like it.”
“If only it were so simple.”
“Nothing ever is.”
She cast him a look of longing and he pressed his lips into a grim line, refusing to let her take his heart and toss it away.
“Lena, I ain’t the one leaving. I ain’t the one that’s got promises to keep. You got choices to make and one is which way we ride. So do you want to stay with me or not?”
Chapter 17
Lena wasn’t staying. She wept that night as he tossed beneath the weight of the buffalo hide. The next morning he found her eyes red-rimmed.
Troy helped Lena onto Scheherazade’s back and then mounted his new Appaloosa stallion. The horse was big and strong, and Troy hated him.
He’d ridden Dahlonega all over the West. His mount was only seven and had good years left before Charging Buffalo’s men killed him.
He glanced back at Lena, finding her head hung low. He never meant to hurt her. Seemed he caused women trouble no matter what his intentions. But she was leaving him, damn it. So why did he feel guilty?
He only knew he wanted her with an acuteness that pierced his heart like a thorn. He was taking her back before they did something they’d regret.
Still, as they rode into the late afternoon, he pondered how to get her to stay with him. To do so she would need to forsake her promise to her father and abandon her family. It was a hard choice. What would he do in her place? If his mother and sisters lived, what would he give up to keep from shaming them?
He sighed.
His family was dead. He had no further obligation to them, while Lena had nothing but obligations to hers.
He drew up in a grove by the river, choosing to make camp early. He needed to check Lena’s wound. How he dreaded facing her again.
He slid off the Sioux horse and hobbled the stallion’s front legs, then turned to Lena, but found she had already dismounted unassisted.
The silence stretched as he unloaded their gear
. He saw her lift her arms to remove her saddle and wince.
“I’ll do that.” He brushed her aside and slipped the weight off her little mare.
By the time he had a fire going the day was nearly spent. He extended a portion of dried jerky, but she waved away his offer.
“Lena, I hate to see you so blue.”
She made no attempt to smile.
“When you get back east, you can show your painting to that fellow, Audubon.”
She sighed. “Yes.”
“Think he’ll like ’em?”
She thought a moment. “I believe so.”
“That’s why you came out here, isn’t it?”
Her eyes spoke of her sorrow and his gut tightened at the sight.
“It was.”
“If he includes you in his next venture, you’ll be heading back here.”
“Oh, no. Once I marry, I shan’t be allowed such liberties. If I am fortunate, I will paint the background for his work from New York.”
This news struck him like a second blow from the war club of an attacking Sioux warrior. Anger simmered. Lena deserved her dream. She risked so much, came so far and should never be a background anything. Why didn’t anyone back home care about her talent or her wishes?
His mood sunk as well.
“You’ll be caged up like a canary.”
She nodded. “Just so.”
“Is that what you want, Lena?”
Tears brimmed in her eyes and spilled over the dam of her lids, coursing down her cheeks. She spoke in a strangled voice. “What I want has nothing whatsoever to do with it, you see. I can’t break my parents’ hearts.”
She reached out and grasped his hand. Cold fingers gripped his with surprising strength. “If I did not have to go, would you marry me, Troy?”
He lifted her hand to his cheek, pressing a kiss to her palm. A lightning bolt of pain streaked through his heart as he ached over losing her. Another woman shamed by his love.
Life was cruel.
She stroked his face, her fingers dancing over his ear and down his neck to rest upon his shoulder. He lifted his gaze to meet hers.
“Lena, I’m not going to covet what I can’t have. You’re going back. I’m staying.”